


Blame It on the Negra Modelo (citizen of the year remix)

by Karen T (poohmusings)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-01
Updated: 2007-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poohmusings/pseuds/Karen%20T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Screw alien invasions. <i>This</i> was what they needed a code word for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It on the Negra Modelo (citizen of the year remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Spirited Discussion](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/27012) by Random. 



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, any of them.  
>  **Spoilers:** Everything through "Spirits" (ep 2.13).  
>  **Warning:** There are some hints of OT3/4 in here.  
>  **Notes:** Written for Random in the Gateverse Remix. The minute I read the phrase "sex and violence" in Random's [Spirited Discussion](http://www.alldanielfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=719), my brain went to OT4 places. ;) My eternal gratitude to Julie for bravely wading into the muck of my original draft and salvaging the story I really wanted to tell.

Sam was drunk.

Well, maybe that was bit of an exaggeration. She wasn't belligerent-bitter-drunk like Colonel O'Neill sometimes got after a bad mission, or slurred-words-drunk like Daniel after one beer and no food in his stomach. But her cheeks were warm, her eyelids were just a little too heavy, and a pleasant fuzziness blurred the edges of her thoughts. 

Plus, she was really, really ... comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that she was quite content to do nothing besides sprawl on the carpeted floor of Colonel O'Neill's living room and finish her third beer. 

She suspected she shouldn't be drinking anymore; she hadn't been able to follow that whole conversation about becauses and codes words and whatever else the guys had been talking about, and that had been when she'd only consumed two beers. But that comfortable pleasant buzz in her head? She'd like more of that, please. 

As the colonel and Daniel continued to volley insults at each other, Sam leaned back against the front of the couch and grinned. This was what made everything, including almost allowing the SGC to be seized by human-form-stealing aliens, worth it. Drinking with her team ... laughing with her team ... her awesome, wonderful, incredibly attractive team. With their snug T-shirts (my, what nice biceps they have), and big, strong hands, and oh so delectable jaw lines. 

She wouldn't mind licking Teal'c's jaw line. The colonel's current five o'clock shadow was too stubbly for her taste, but she imagined it might make her laugh if he kissed his way up her thigh. And Daniel. She couldn't forget Daniel. Daniel would be there running his-- 

" --sex and violence. _That's_ the law of the land on Earth," Colonel O'Neill's booming voice insisted as it sliced into her thoughts. 

Sam was immediately grateful she hadn't been in mid-gulp just then because her mouthful of beer would only have been sprayed across the table, right at the colonel. As it was, she still let loose a surprised half-snort-half-chuckle, which she tried to cover up by coughing. Loudly. 

Colonel O'Neill glanced her way and frowned, no doubt wondering if his second-in-command was so drunk she'd managed to choke on her own saliva. She could feel her cheeks turn a deeper shade of crimson. 

"You okay over there, Carter?" 

"Yes, sir. I ..." She hesitated as words -- _appropriate_ words -- failed her. The colonel looked like he was about to press the subject, but luckily Daniel came to her rescue. 

"Well," Daniel huffed, "if we _have_ to use a code word, then I vote for 'because' since it's already worked." 

"You 'vote'? Where did you get the idea this is a democracy?" Colonel O'Neill fixed him with an icy glare that clearly said this was the end of the discussion. "Now, quit arguing and make yourself useful. You," he punctuated the word by shaking his empty beer bottle at Daniel, "more beer. Teal'c, fire up the grill and get started on those burgers. Democracy, my ass." 

"No orders for me, sir?" Sam asked after Daniel and Teal'c had gone off on their appointed tasks. 

"Feel like helping me keep my mind off the hole in my arm?" he asked, grimacing as he raised his right arm, sling and all. 

Oh, she could think of an idea or two for them to try out. And the fact they all involved various degrees of body contortion was just the icing on the-- No. Bad idea. Very, _very_ bad. 

"Jack, where the hell did you hide the beer?" 

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Sam rose to her feet as gracefully as she could for being drunk on alcohol and very bad ideas. "Lemme go help, Daniel," she mumbled before beating a hasty retreat from the room. 

"Can you believe him?" Daniel demanded the moment she entered the kitchen. He was standing in front of the wide-open refrigerator, his hands on his hips. 

"I think I'm losing my mind," Sam moaned as she joined Daniel's side and peered into the fridge. 

"I know. There's so much stuff crammed in here that it's impossible to find anything," Daniel griped, shoving his head in next to hers. "You'll need x-ray vision to figure out where that beer's hidden." 

He was so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. And his words sent a warm draft wafting across her already feverish cheek. 

A simple turn of the head and she could be kissing him. And he could be kissing her back. And her hands could be under his shirt, his hands in her hair, her legs urging him backwards towards the counter, his-- 

"Found one!" she exclaimed, practically shoving Daniel away from her as she spotted the familiar gold and yellow Negra Modelo label peeking out from behind a head of lettuce and a loaf of bread. 

Her lips were tingling. 

"Sam? You okay?" 

Oh, she was just peachy. Aside from the fact her brain wouldn't stop flooding her mind with images that Really Shouldn't Be There, of course. 

Screw alien invasions. _This_ was what they needed a code word for: "No, Daniel, I'm not fine. I'm totally plastered and want to have my way with you against the counter, or maybe go make out with the colonel and then grope Teal'c's ass." 

"I'm fine, Daniel. Just fine," she insisted as she handed him two cold bottles before reaching back into the fridge for two more. It was important to keep hands occupied. _Everyone's_ hands. 

She was careful to stay ahead of Daniel on their way back to the living room, and once there, she claimed Teal'c's previous seat on the couch. It was still warm from his body heat, which was bad, but it was on the opposite end from where Colonel O'Neill sat, which was good. She pressed her side against the armrest and vowed not to budge an inch. 

Of course that was all before Daniel decided to walk right by her on his way to handing Colonel O'Neill a beer. And as he brushed against her knees, she jumped and her gasp was loud enough for both men in the room to hear. 

"Sure you're okay, Sam?" Daniel asked again, this time eyeing her with both suspicion and concern. 

"Yea-yeah," she managed to get out. Forcing a smile, she added, "It's just been a weird day." 

"No kidding. Gill-face aliens sure know how to throw a day off-kilter, huh?" Colonel O'Neill asked. 

And you don't even know half of it, Sam thought as she nodded in assent. But at least she now had plan of attack to thwart her pesky imagination. One, no moving. Two, no more beer. 

But as she watched Daniel and the colonel begin arguing once more -- this time about proper grill technique -- she couldn't help but notice how great the colonel looked in his jeans and how entrancing Daniel's blue eyes. And then she imagined Teal'c manning the grill, his bare arms on display as he flipped a patty ... 

Crap. What was wrong with her? She could kill herself for dreaming up these crazy fantasies. Hell, at this rate, she'd been willing to kill the guys to regain her sanity. 

Hmm, killing. Shooting. Tackling. Rolling ... trapping ... wiggling, teasing, tickling-- 

Oh, screw it, she decided as she lunged for one of the beers she'd deposited on the coffee table. Moving was good; beer was good. And if sex and violence was the law of the land, then she was simply being a very good citizen. 

Right? 

_-the end-_


End file.
